Antipodean: Book of Artemis
by Zhang Sizheng
Summary: Take heed: if you circle the wrong sex on the Academy application form, the mistake WILL haunt your child. Kakashi can attest to this because she’s a cross dressing, gender confused kunoichi, and it’s all her father’s fault. :Female Kakashi, AR preseries:
1. Latona's Labour

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**Sizheng:** This is too looooooong… forgive meeee… But it all had to be written. Even the awkward parts and the slow parts, even.

_Artemis Arrant_ will probably be written parallel to _Aphrodite Ardent _and _Athena Arising _(whoo, alliteration!), because it's largely a collection of one-shots and outtakes that provide some background to its "sequels". More accurately, it's a prequel to the other two stories. And each of them can stand on their own.

This has actually been sitting on my harddrive for at least a month. I should prolly update with a new chapter as opposed to a new story… bad Sizheng!

The entire _Antipodean _trilogy is and will be dedicated to **Falling Right Side-Up**, whose encouragement gives me many butterflies of happiness. Or something corny like that.

* * *

**Artemis Arrant**

An Alternate Reality Naruto Fanstory by Zhang Sizheng

For _Falling Right Side-Up_

**Part One—Latona's Labour**

* * *

"Hey. Hey, kid." Minato jerked awake, but remained disoriented to all but the large pair of hands shaking him so insistently. "Wake up." The blond obediently cracked open an eyelid and honestly couldn't tell the difference; the night was thick and inky in the forest undergrowth. "Minato!"

"'M 'waked," the eight-year-old managed. His mouth was still clumsy from sleep. "Whatcher wan', Jirai'-sensei?" There was a sudden glow, like a splash of silver light in the darkness. It flickered, and then died. Minato sat up, suddenly alert. "What's 'at?" he asked, a little more coherently.

"Fuyubi, a summons." Jiraiya-sensei explained shortly. "We're wanted, so get up and pack your stuff." He didn't sound happy about being woken either and that made Minato feel better about being disturbed from _his_ sleep. Rolling out of his blankets, he withdrew and tossed down a scroll with which to store them in.

As the smoke from the subspace storage technique faded, he knelt to pick up the scroll. "I'm packed," he reported with a sigh, then yelped as something soft brushed lingeringly against his side. Turning his head, Minato found himself staring into the glowing amber eyes of an enormous canine. "Holy crap! It's huge!"

The amber eyes shifted. Minato thought they looked amused and a little gratified. "Quickly, you two." Its voice was low, rough and snarling, like the growled conversation of a dog team.

While Minato was impressed, it seemed Sensei was far from it. "We're coming, we're coming," the white-haired man snapped. His back-length ponytail reflected the muted glow from the wolf's pelt. "Go and take a piss on a tree or something."

Minato winced. Those teeth looked dangerous. "Sensei—"

"Shut up, you asshole," Fuyubi growled. Although Minato didn't think he was the one being addressed, he nevertheless closed his mouth. "And let's go. I searched half of Konoha before Tsunade-san told me you were on a retrieval mission, and then I had to pick up your stupid scent before looking out here. So the two of you have caused me a lot of trouble already—_don't try my patience_."

In a whirl of silver motion the summons was racing away, the light fading with it. "_What_ patience, you old mutt?" Minato heard his teacher sigh, and then the quiet rustle of dry leaves as Jiraiya-sensei followed their messenger-guide. Shouldering his pack, Minato followed, quickly catching up to his mentor.

"How old does that idiot think he is, anyway?" Jiraiya-sensei complained to no one in particular as they pursued the wolf's glowing form through the dense undergrowth. Minato guessed that he wasn't referring to their guide. "It's not like he needs anyone to hold his hand for this."

"But what's going _on_?" Minato flinched at the whine in his own voice. He _hated _whiners. Immediately adjusting his tone, he elaborated: "I mean, where're we going, and why? You said we'd press on to Konoha in the morning!"

"We're not going to Konoha," that was Fuyubi, his low, snarling voice cutting through the cicadas' song and night noises of the woods. "We're going to the Hatake plantation, on the edge of the forest. Now shut up, and run."

And Minato suddenly remembered that the only shinobi he knew with a wolf summons contract was Hatake Sakumo-sama, the White Fang of Konoha. "Why?" he yelped. What would such a famous shinobi want with either his perverted Sensei or himself, a newly promoted chūnin?

Sensei grunted. "His lover started giving birth last night. Apparently, he panicked and sent his mutts out to nab me and Tsunade."

Asking for Tsunade-san made sense. She was a skilled medic-nin, after all, although her bedside manner left much to be desired. But Jiraiya-sensei…? An image of Jiraiya peeping into the birthing room, then being forced out by a very angry White Fang made Minato feel distinctly uneasy. "And Orochimaru-san?" Minato hoped not—Orochimaru was charismatic and clever, but he had a speculative way of looking at other people that made Minato's flesh crawl.

"Nah, _that_ headache ain't even in the country right now, and Sakumo's not all that friendly with him in any case. Elitist bastard," he concluded, but there was fondness in his voice.

For all his grumbling, Minato hadn't seen Jiraiya-sensei in such a good mood since… since before _that _mission. "Then _you're_ friendly with Sakumo-sama?"

He couldn't _see _the look Jiraiya-sensei must be shooting him, but he could certainly hear the incredulity in his pause. "Where are those brains you're so famed for, boy?" Sensei snapped. "Not everyone gets invited to a birthing—especially not the brat of someone as powerful as Hatake Sakumo."

Minato had realised it was a stupid question as soon as it left his mouth. Sulking—well, what was he _supposed_ to expect? That a perv like his Jiraiya-sensei could know and be on first-name terms with a legend like the White Fang of Konoha?—he remained silent for the rest of their journey.

* * *

The room was littered in origami creations. Paper animals and flowers and shuriken and pinwheels spilled over the edges of the only table and onto the floor in a gay riot of colour. There was a pretty white and fuchsia bellflower in Sensei's silver hair, a green fox mask that blended nicely into the potted plant in the corner and an origami toad—three of them—by Hiashi's right foot. He kicked nervously at them, and they skittered across the floor, coming to a stop against his dozing teammate's leg.

The point: paper creations were _everywhere_. And fifteen-year-old Hyūga Hiashi was beginning to feel chrysophobic with all the glittering colours crowding him in. His eye twitched as a muffled wail of pain sounded from the room two doors down, and he directed his attention to his teacher.

Hands trembling visibly, Sensei finished a red and gold dog toy, reached for a pretty bamboo-patterned piece of paper and Hiashi snapped.

"Stop it," he ordered shortly, irritated when Sakumo-sensei ignored him and folded the newest sheet diagonally. "I said _stop_. If you were folding cranes, you'd have enough to make three wishes at least. So just… don't do any more, okay?"

Jin mumbled something and turned on his side. '_Fat lot of help _you_ are,_' Hiashi thought rebelliously at the drowsing redhead.

Sakumo-sensei looked miserably at Hiashi, and Hiashi felt a little badly for how he'd lost his patience with the man. "Look," he said, trying to sound reasonable. Sensei liked to smile, and often did—they could always tell, even through that stupid mask of his. It was downright unnatural, seeing him look so glum. "Tsunade-sama knows what she's doing, so just… calm down." Though why Tsunade-sama, renowned for her prodigious ability in medical jutsu, would answer a summons from leagues-away Konoha to help deliver his crazy Sensei's kid was beyond Hiashi.

"I'm calm," Sakumo-sensei protested. His fingers placed creases in the paper he'd taken, and folded it deftly into a little box.

"Look, if you'll just think about this, rationally…" '_Why the Hell is Jin never conscious when I need him and yet never shuts up when I don't?_' Sakumo-sensei reached for a new sheet, this one a pretty print of sparrows and maple leaves. "Sensei—"

"Don't want to think," Sakumo-sensei mumbled, and the new sheet took the form of a crane.

"I can see that," Hiashi sighed. He was beginning to get fidgety, himself. "Give me a few," he demanded at last. "I'm bored." And skittish, although he would rather bleed himself dry with a rusty kunai than admit to Sensei that the man's nervousness was catching. "That pile, there," he pointed to some expensive-looking, gilded sheets.'_My god, how much does he spend on this stuff?_'

Sakumo-sensei handed them over without protest, and Hiashi sighed and began to fold shuriken: the only shape he knew. He was completing his eighth one when the door slid open and the nervous father-to-be lurched expectantly to his feet.

But it was only Fuyubi, Sensei's summons, flanked by a jōnin with pure white hair and a blond several years Hiashi's junior. Hiashi felt a twinge of pity as the hope in his teacher's face crumpled as he did, sinking back to the floor. "Jiraiya," Sensei acknowledged dully. "Thank you, Fuyubi, you may leave." The wolf regarded them all fiercely for a few moments before disappearing in a poof of smoky chakra residue.

"What the fuck?" the white-haired jōnin yelled. "What's with the lukewarm greeting?"

Hiashi's eyes widened. '_Jiraiya-sama?_' How did his happy-go-lucky, scatterbrained Sensei know _two_ members of the elite team already being lauded as the Densetsu no Sennin?

"Sakumo, you stupid _prick_, you could look happier to see us! We were tired and sleeping, and then your damn mutt had to come and wake us up and—oh, your brats are here, too? Did you have _them _dragged out of their beds as well?"

"Ah, well, we were already here. For a visiting—erm. Training trip," Hiashi stammered, finding his voice and giving his listless teacher a subtle nudge in the hopes of prompting a more enthusiastic greeting. His hopes were quashed as Sakumo-sensei simply picked up yet a fresh sheet and began to make a chrysanthemum-patterned toad. '_How… appropriate._' "Plus, Sensei has a dojo," he said desperately. "We train there." '_Idiot. "We train there"?_' Feeling a little frantic, he kicked Jin as surreptitiously as he could.

Of course, Jin had to wake up howling. "Hiashi, you _bas_… oh, hello, who are you? Wow, is that natural?" Coming from someone whose teacher had _silver _hair since forever…

Hiashi gave up. His entire team had somehow managed to individually humiliate themselves in front of the Toad Sage. Even the blond kid—Jiraiya-sama's apprentice?—looked very disillusioned at the scene in front of him. He had picked up a wind-patterned pinwheel and was now inspecting it with studied curiosity.

"Oi, you," Hiashi's redheaded teammate waved at the Blond Unknown—as if he couldn't see them sitting right in front of him! "What's your name?"

"Jin," Hiashi gritted softly out of the corner of his mouth. "Be polite."

"What for? He can't be more than six or seven," Jin retorted, and Hiashi had never been so glad to hear Sakumo-sensei speak outside of a battle situation as when he did just then.

"You've brought your team, I see," Sensei said softly.

Jiraiya-sama's eyes hardened into dark, iron-hued gimlets. "'S not a team when there's only one of 'em left," he said curtly.

'…_or not. Sakumo-sensei, _shut up.' The Blond Unknown's face had paled several shades. To his credit, he maintained a stoic mien, and Hiashi mentally applauded him while shooting angry vibes at his insensitive teacher, '_Who,_' he decided furiously, '_was a complete douche bag_.'

Sakumo-sensei stood, scattering origami everywhere. Hiashi didn't even see him move, but he was suddenly embracing the Toad Sage as if they were brothers!

He and Jin exchanged disbelieving looks. It was a sentiment, Hiashi noted, that Jiraiya's apprentice shared, if the huge blue eyes and dropped jaw were any indication.

"Don't do this gay crap to me," Jiraiya-sama was saying loudly, but his face was being muffled in Sakumo-sensei's neck. "You… you just… they were both…"

"I know," Sakumo-sensei's voice, deep and soft and very caring, murmured softly. "Me too, you know? Me too… it hurts, and it takes a while because it seems like it's your fault but it's not, it's not… but it hurts still, doesn't it? Let it out, old friend, let it out…"

'…_Oh._' Hiashi remembered rumours that his teacher's first team of genin had died in an ambush by Suna-nin. Hiashi's father had been dubious about Sakumo-sensei's qualifications to lead another team—especially one with _his _son on it. '_That must be what they're talking about._'

"Becoming a Dad will turn you completely gay, you sentimental, flamboyant old fuck," Jiraiya-sama said into Sensei's neck. There was a growing wet spot at the collar of Sakumo-sensei's sleeping shirt. "Just watch. You're already more of a woman than your girl is. And soon your dick will fall off."

A soft snort—the levity was clearly welcome. "I should hope not," Sensei laughed, and pitched his voice lower to say something that Hiashi could not hear but that Jiraiya-sama gave a watery chuckle at.

And they stood there for a long moment, arms about each other, faces turned into each other, speaking softly. Caringly.

Hiashi felt horribly embarrassed for the both of them.

Resisting the urge to rake a hand through his hair—shinobi were discouraged from such nervous habits—he sat back down. The Blond Unknown sidled closer and Hiashi reclaimed a cushion from the onslaught of origami forces. "Here," he said gruffly, pushing the proffered cushion at the younger boy.

"Thanks," the kid said. "I'm… I'm Namikaze Minato. Pleased to meet you." And he bowed decorously.

Hiashi barely restrained a smile. At last, someone in the shinobi ranks who knew their manners! …and weren't from either his clan (where it was expected) and wasn't one of those snooty Uchiha. "Hyūga Hiashi," he responded politely, and bent at the waist. "A pleasure to meet you."

"You're such a fucking stick in the mud, Hiashi-kun," Jin's obnoxious voice rang in his left ear. "Yo, I'm Jin. Natsuno Jin."

"That's a cool name," Minato-kun said brightly.

Jin beamed. "Isn't it? I keep telling old Stick-in-the-Ass here that my name's way cooler than his, even if it's not one of the old shinobi clans', but he just goes 'hn' and ignores me."

"Uhh…" Minato-kun looked as if he didn't quite know what to make of this. "I'm from a civilian family, too! I think. So…"

Hiashi tuned them both out. And just when he'd hoped to be able to make a connection with someone who possessed _some_ reason… it just figured. He'd kill Jin tomorrow.

Somewhere in the next room, Haruka-san screamed. And then she screamed again. Jiraiya-sama had to snag the back of Sensei's shirt to keep him from bolting through the thin rice-paper and wood structure that served as room partitions.

"Sit the fuck down." He ordered.

Sakumo-sensei sat.

Hiashi hid a grin.

And then the wails in the next room were joined by a new one. It was halting, hiccoughing and thinner than Haruka-san's, but it was _there_: an infant's cry.

Sakumo-sensei moved so fast not even Jiraiya-sama could stop him. There was a tearing noise as his sleeping shirt ripped, and Hiashi caught sight of a pale back and silver blur before his teacher careened haphazardly through the wall with a crash, leaving a vaguely man-shaped hole in the wood and rice paper screen.

Hiashi buried his face in his hands. Sure, he was worried and concerned, too… but _why_ did his teacher always have to be so _embarrassing_?

* * *

Minato hadn't thought he'd be this entertained just waiting for someone to have a baby.

Watching the interaction between Jiraiya-sensei and Sakumo-sama had been interesting, to say the least. Sakumo-sama was not just a famous shinobi to Minato's teacher, and it seemed the feeling was more than mutual. The two were clearly at ease with one another, and close. '_A little too close, maybe_,' he thought, recalling the embrace.

Mostly, Minato was just amused to see his teacher sniffling like a child into another man's shoulder, even knowing the reasoning behind it. He'd felt the familiar prickle of grief, of course—but he'd barely known his teammates beyond the boundaries of… well, teammates. And hearing the banter between the two jōnin had cheered him up considerably, though that other boy—the Hyūga—had seemed disproportionately torn between scandal and horror. Minato's amusement had been shared by Jin-kun, however, and the two had watched their teachers' antics with pleasure.

Especially when Sakumo-sama had run through two silkscreen walls in his haste.

Hiashi-san sighed, breaking the amused silence that had fallen over the room since Sakumo-sama's departure. "He has to stop doing that."

"What? Panicking? He's normally pretty cool," Jin-kun scratched at a scab on his cheek and winced as it began to bleed.

The dark-haired boy slapped his teammate's hand away. "Stop that, you idiot. And I _meant_ running through walls."

"You mean it's not the first time?" Minato asked, curious in spite of himself.

"Hah!" Jiraiya-sensei snorted. "I met him when he had to lead my Cell on an A-ranking reconnaissance. I thought he was one of 'em anal guys who always wanted to be in control and cool… and then he saw us and was so excited he jumped through the window and tore a hole in the mosquito screening."

Hiashi-san winced.

"When we graduated the Academy a while back," Jin-kun said cheerfully, "I thought we were going to get a really cool, really powerful jōnin-sensei! And then he was late and ran into the sliding door and _through _it because he was planning on what to say to us to make a good impression! Of course, that ruined it all… but Sakumo-sensei's still pretty kickass!"

"That's the idiot alright," Jiraiya-sensei said fondly.

"'The idiot' can hear everything you're saying," Sakumo-sama's deep, mellow voice said from the hole in the screening. "And he'd be tempted to tow the lot of you outside for an asskicking for telling embarrassing stories unless you indulge him right now."

"Ah, what's the damage, Sakumo, you sap?" Jiraiya-sensei grinned. "Is the kid as ugly as you are?"

"Come and see!" Sakumo-sama was all but dancing on the spot. Minato found it difficult to reconcile the legends of Konoha's White Fang with this gleeful new father. "Come and see it!"

"You could at least do your kid the favour of calling them a he or she, you ass," Sensei accused. "Well, let's see the brat, then."

"Yes, yes—Haruka wants to see you, too. The two of them are nursing right now, so… kids, could you wait here for a bit?"

Minato wondered, privately, if that were the best idea Sakumo-sensei had ever had. From previous experience, the mere _idea_ of putting Jiraiya-sensei in the same room with a woman with part of her chest exposed preluded a disaster of epic proportions. But Sakumo-sama was already leading the way through the new 'doorway', his slipper-clad feet crunching on bits of rice paper and wood splinters.

"Sure," he heard Jin-kun mutter when they were gone from sight, "he's been a father for all of five minutes and he's calling us 'kids'."

"It does seem slightly condescending, doesn't it?" Hiashi-san murmured.

Minato shrugged, his mind already exploring what Jiraiya-sensei had suggested. He'd never seen a newborn before, although he'd heard mixed tales about their appearance. His team had been too young to be considered capable babysitters, so they'd never received any D-ranks involving watching children.

"I wonder if it'll look like Sensei," Jin-kun thought aloud.

"It won't look like much of anything at first," Hiashi-san told them with an air of almost aggravating superiority. "Actually, it'll be the most horrific thing you'll see outside of a battle situation."

"Well, _I_ think the baby's beautiful," Sakumo-sama whispered into Minato's ear. He jumped. He hadn't even _heard _the man's approach. "I'm here for Minato-kun, so step lively, Blondie." Minato felt a brief spike of concern—surely the man hadn't been foolish enough to leave Jiraiya-sensei alone in a room with his lover… was he?

Sakumo-sama laughed. Minato reddened as he realised he must have spoken his thoughts aloud. "Don't worry about Jiraiya, kiddo. He's got more respect for Haruka than that."

"Don't count on it," Minato muttered.

"I won't," Sakumo-sama agreed. "So come along—you can see them first, since you'll be able to keep Jiraiya from being a nuisance."

"Don't count on it," Minato repeated, but followed obediently.

"Hey!" He heard Jin-kun shout. "Why aren't _we_ going in? Aren't we his precious team?"

"Idiot," Hiashi-san huffed, and then they were out of earshot.

* * *

Minato stared.

The thing in the bundle of blankets didn't so much resemble a baby as it did a giant, bloated prune. Its face was bright red and wrinkled in distaste at being bereft of its nursing; the blood and fluids matting its hair rendered the sparse wisps a light brownish hue almost completely indistinguishable from its dirty scalp.

All in all, Hiashi-san was right, and the baby was one of the ugliest things Minato had ever seen, inside or outside of a battle situation.

"I can't let you hold her yet," Tsunade-san said sharply, clearly mistaking the awed look on Minato's face for something other than fascinated horror. "But she's quite beautiful," she complimented the glowing Haruka-san. "Perfect form, too—and she can already open her eyes." She prodded a bloody, perfectly manicured finger at a little fist; the infant's hand unclenched slowly, wrapped itself clumsily, haltingly, about the slender digit. "Bless her," Tsunade-san said softly. "She's going to be brilliant."

"Thank you," Haruka-san said graciously.

Minato guessed that the hours of tending to a screaming woman had clearly snapped Tsunade-san's mind; surely _no one _could think this whimpering, screwed up little face anything but hideous. Then something clicked. "Wait… it—I mean, the baby's a she?"

"We didn't expect her to be, no, but she _is_," Haruka-san glowed. "Aren't you, little girl?" she crooned gently at the fussing infant. "You're my little girl."

Minato's hand reached out, seemingly of its own will, and he brushed at a gore-encrusted cheek. "Weren't you hoping for a guy?" Tiny nostrils flared briefly—_sniffing_ him—and then an equally small hand came up to grope blindly at his fingers. Minato recoiled.

"I don't know," Haruka-san said, and Minato realised she had been watching his interaction with the newborn with a smile. "I didn't really plan the pregnancy—" here, she glared at where Sakumo-sama was speaking quietly to Jiraiya-sensei, "—but it's one of those things I don't think I could regret if I wanted to. Like being a ninja."

"_You're_ a ninja, Haruka-san?" Minato somehow found it difficult to picture the pale, elfin woman in any sort of bloody conflict. The glow of motherhood suffused her features. She was beautiful and benign and looked as if she couldn't throw a kunai without cutting herself.

"One of the best trackers out there," Tsunade-san said, patting the woman in the bed with sisterly affection.

"Thank you, Tsunade-san," Haruka-san turned back to Minato, her fingers tracing her child's features. "Yes, I was a ninja—a tokubetsu jōnin. Until my fourth month, that is. Then I received permission to retire from the battlefield to carry the little one to term."

Minato didn't really know what to make of this, so he changed the subject. "What's her name?

Sakumo-sama wandered over at this point. "We don't know," he said cheerfully. "I guess one will come to us eventually."

Looking offended at his lackadaisical attitude, Haruka shot him an exasperated glare, which he cheerfully ignored until her mouth quirked into a smile. "You have something in your hair," she sighed. She reached forward and plucked out a pinkish purple origami flower from behind his ear. "Ah, it's one of yours. You do nice work, as usual." Slyly: "how many did you make this time?"

Recalling the appearance of the "waiting room" he'd initially been shown into, Minato laughed aloud.

"Not… not too many." Sakumo-sama took the bell-shaped flower and considered it. "Oh… what if…"

And he was gone in a flicker of pale movement, leaving Minato alone with Jiraiya-sensei.

"I don't like that feeling… the one rolling around in my gut," Jiraiya-sensei said, after a moment of silence.

"I just gave birth, so I couldn't possibly know _what_ you'retalking about," Haruka-san responded drily. Minato laughed, watched the gore-spattered infant's eyes blinking open and closed, the irises impossibly dark.

"Well, _I_ didn't," Sensei scratched the side of his nose. "But I have a bad feeling… like I do whenever Sakumo gets one of his stupid ideas. Y'know, like when he wore that geisha costume and—"

"I still have the pictures," Tsunade-san smirked. "You'll be fine," she told the two in the bed. "I'm going to wash my hands and take the room next to this one—the one that _doesn't _have a hole in the wall—and lie down for a bit."

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Tsunade-san."

"How could I miss it?" Tsunade-san's pretty features softened as she looked at the baby. "The two of you make one good-looking kid. I don't know Sakumo-kun's face, but she's got his eyes for sure."

Minato wondered if everyone had gone mad. As far as he'd seen, there was no resemblance whatsoever between Sakumo-sama's eyes and his daughter's save perhaps the colour. But he'd heard that colour changes often took place, so who did they think they were trying to kid?

And then he saw the dark eyes open drowsily, slide carefully about the room before slowing to fix themselves on _his face_. And then the baby yawned, deliberately, but her eyes didn't leave his. There was something impossibly endearing about her halting little movements, Minato thought.

"Can she see me?" he heard himself whisper.

"She can, a little, but not very well. Her eyes won't be fully developed for a while yet," Tsunade-san informed him before leaving the room, skipping back to avoid running into a returning Sakumo-sama.

"Okay, I'm back!" Sakumo-sama held out a fistful of slightly crumpled origami figurines. "Look!" he said. "Here's a bird—'Kotori'—and an azalea, and a scarecrow—that's 'Tsutsuji', I guess, and 'Kakashi'. And here's a bell: 'Kaneko'. A fox, too… maybe 'Byakko'… but 'Inari' sounds better… and here's another bell…"

"…the Hell are you talking about?" Sensei rubbed a hand wearily over his face.

Sakumo-sama's dark eyes twinkled brightly. "Names, of course! Names for my daughter!"

"After _origami_?" His lover shrilled, having found her voice.

Minato couldn't help thinking that Haruka-san's incredulity was well-deserved, at this point, but held his silence.

"Look, the baby can decide." Sakumo-sama inched closer and held out the fistful of paper creations. "Pick one, aijou-chan!"

"You've gone nuts," Jiraiya-sensei said, shaking his head. "One too many knocks to the thinker…"

Eyes squeezed shut again, the newborn flailed in her mother's arms, and knocked all but one of the glittering paper creations from her enthusiastic father's large hand.

In the ensuing, incredulous silence that followed, Sakumo held the 'winner' aloft. "…it's the scarecrow! _Good_ choice, little one—"

"Stop goofing around, Sakumo! We're _not _naming our firstborn child after a scarecrow origami," the new mother cried, outraged. "What sort of name is 'Kakashi' for our daughter?"

"Hatake Kakashi," her lover sounded it out proudly. "It has a certain ring to it."

"Oh, it does—if you have a bucket over your head, had an anvil dropped on you and are under the influence of mushroom hallucinogens, _idiot_," Haruka-san snapped.

Minato tuned out the ensuing argument and realised that Hiashi-san and Jin-kun must have followed Sakumo-sama in just in time to hear 'the naming'.

"Sensei's crazy," Jin-kun whispered, awed. "And _that _is the ugliest thing since the word was invented."

"Shut _up_," Hiashi-san hissed.

"Did the two of you say something?" Sakumo-sama inquired cheerfully.

"N-no, Sensei…"

"Sakumo! Don't ignore me, I _told _you, we're _not_ naming our child after—"

Sakumo-sama winced, as did the baby. "But it fits so _well_!"

"It _doesn't_!" Haruka-san hissed.

And when Haruka-san started throwing things at Sakumo-sama, everyone fled the birthing room to find a corner to curl up and sleep, although the sun was already peering over the horizon.

"But she really _was_," he later confided to Jiraiya as they struck out for Konoha, though he was sure to say it well out of earshot of the main house. "Ugly, that is. She had to be the grossest thing I've ever seen."

And Sensei just threw his head back and laughed. "Hate to say it, kid, hate to say it—but put Sakumo and Haruka-chan together, and you _can't _have an ugly kid. It'll grow out of its ugliness, like all babies do."

"_You_ didn't," Minato said, mostly because he was feeling insolent. And he received a hard sting about the head for his impertinence, and was chased to the edge of the forest, where he took to the trees.

But, remembering the way the little hand had tightened about his fingers, remembering the fragile strength in the little digits, remembering the residue of blood and natal fluids picking out every minute detail on the chubby, _perfect_ little palms and nails and knuckles…

Minato wondered if Jiraiya-sensei might actually know what he was talking about, after all.

* * *


	2. Achilles Inversed

* * *

**Sizheng:** Looks like the average chapter length for this story will be about five thousand words. Eh-heh-heh-heh… I hope you can hold with me for that long each time! Anyhow, the last bit of this chapter was finished pre-e-etty late… so forgive me if the ending isn't quite so fantab.

This fic isn't getting much response. Genderbending isn't so popular—I can understand why. But I want to write a good gender-bending fic (and get response), because a female Kakashi is just so scadliciously fun. Anyhow! Shall stop making up new words and let you read on now. The chapter dedication goes in scads to **Novocain** and **Verna Jast**. Thank you, loves! As usual, tho, this fic is written for the one and only **Falling Right Side-Up**.

It also celebrates my moving out at last! W00t! 'Scuse, tho, for the ridiculous amount of fluff in this chapter. It's sorta insubstantial, I know, but hey! You get Sakumo and Jiraiya, and... what more could you really ask for? Really?

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**Artemis Arrant**

An Alternate Reality Naruto Fanstory by Zhang Sizheng

For _Falling Right Side-Up_

**Part Two—Achilles Inversed  
**

* * *

Ironically enough, the Land of Fire was prone to obscenely powerful summer downpours that flattened crops and tore the roof tiles off buildings. The winds rent at the forest, stripping leaves and bark; the accompanying deluges were the reason most of the domestic and administrative buildings in Konoha were built on stilts and elevated at least a metre off the ground.

Flash floods. Lightning.

In his younger days, Sakumo and the other foolhardy boys of the village would crouch in gullies by the Hokage Mountain to wait for the floods and the opportunity to swim against the rain-currents that came pouring down off the Hokage mountains. Sometime in his late teens, he and his jōnin compatriots (usually Jiraiya or Dan-kun, or both) had begun to scorn death by drowning, and would instead risk their idiotic necks playing the Thunder Dance amongst the trees—in essence, tempting lightning during an electric storm.

Except now, Sakumo hated thunderstorms.

Mostly because the aforementioned floods would flush out the homes of every helpless, furry, big-eyed young stray in the damn village, and his precocious little bleeding-heart of a daughter would somehow get a hold of them—_all_ of them—and bring them home.

"Damnit, Kakashi," Sakumo gritted quietly, faced with two pairs of huge, pleading eyes. "Not—another—one!"

"She's hurt," his little girl lisped defiantly back at him. "See?" The puppy was missing its right forepaw. "She won't make it if we put her back out there."

Not for the first time, Sakumo vowed torture and disembowelment on the bastard who'd taught his little girl the word 'no'. He rocked back on his heels, fixing a stare to the farthermost corner of the ceiling. "Yes, she wouldn't stand much of a chance," he agreed when he thought he could speak without punching a hole in the wall. "But we already have two-dozen animals prowling the house." With something resembling a plea— "Your mother will kill me."

"She won't know." His own eyes, dark and solemn, looked back at him from his daughter's face. "Unless… unless you tell her?"

Dropping his gaze from the ceiling, Sakumo sighed and reached out to scratch the mewling pup behind a ragged ear. It _was _cute—they all were, in a ragamuffin, whimpering sort of way—but… "Kakashi, your mother has a nose like an Inuzuka. She'll _smell _them."

"But they're already here," Kakashi reasoned. "So she'll smell them even if we throw them out now—and they'll all drown and it'll be a big mess to clean up and Mama'd be even angrier."

She had a point.

'_Geniuses_,' Sakumo thought plaintively. '_Why did it have to be genetic?_'

A cat with only half an ear nudged up against his knee, smearing its wet fur against the linen bindings wrapping his left leg. "Look, Kakashi… everything's a mess," he said, reaching down and rubbing it gently beneath its chin. Eyes closing in pleasure, the feline tolerated this for several moments before skittering away to partake in some of what Sakumo only now recognised as the premium-quality beef fillet he'd been saving for a special occasion—namely, his wife's return. '_Right, that's it._'

He straightened with a sigh and shot a reproving look at his unrepentant daughter. Where was Haruka when he needed her? "A mess," he repeated, trying to sound stern. "Just like you—covered in mud. Take a bath." At least she'd the foresight to spread newspapers across the floor; several of the younger pups had defecated in the corner. "Kakashi, are you listening to me?"

"Yes," she said. "But… just this once?"

"You said that the last fourteen times," he snapped. "And now we've got over twenty cats and dogs crowding up your bedroom!"

"How do I know you won't just throw them all out while I'm taking a bath?" she challenged. "It could be just a die—die-version."

"A diversion." Sakumo corrected. He almost smiled at her impudence. Almost. But he was Hatake Sakumo, White Fang of Konoha, and would not be outmanoeuvred by his four-year-old daughter. "How about this? I _won't_ throw them all out by the ears and tails if you do as I say. _Now_."

Her lips formed a visible pout under the mask. "But—"

"I've heard enough out of you." It was _always_ like this when it stormed. The farmhouse would become some sort of motel for the Lost and Half-Drowned Souls of the Wild. Haruka managed their daughter just fine. Was he just a bad father? Kakashi seldom listened to him anymore. It was true that he'd often left the parenting to Haruka, instead preferring to spoil his baby girl rotten in between thrashing her into shape on the training fields. Maybe the gods didn't like people who threw exploding tags at their four-year-old offspring. That must be it.

Shaking his head a little wildly to clear it, Sakumo pointed. "Go and bathe. You know how to run the water yourself."

Kakashi's only response was a startlingly lupine snarl before she stomped off.

He _knew _he'd been letting her spend too much time around Fuyubi and Fuyuzora: his baby girl was clearly picking up on some of their less-savoury habits…

Closing his eyes, Sakumo covered them with the flats of his palms, grinding them into the sockets in a futile attempt to forestall the inevitable headache. What happened? Kakashi had been a child eager for his attention, ready to obey and smile sweetly and generally be a little treasure.

When had she turned into such a little terror?

"Girls," he sighed, and went to see who had just entered the house. "Please let it be Haruka, please let it be Haruka, _please _let it be—hello, Jiraiya. Minato-kun."

"You always sound so happy to see me nowadays," Jiraiya grumbled, shaking the raindrops from his eyes. "What's got your tits in a tangle?"

"Good evening, Sakumo-sama," Minato-kun murmured, inclining his head and elbowing his mentor in the ribs. "You look a little stressed."

Sakumo dragged a hand through his hair, loosening the leather tie he normally used to keep it back. "Kakashi's being difficult again," he explained. He wasn't complaining. He was just… advertising his unhappiness. Loudly. "She went out and grubbed around in the gardens, fished out all the half-drowned little creatures, and brought them in. And now she's angry because I won't let her keep them."

While Minato-kun looked sympathetic and a little amused, Jiraiya snorted as he squeezed the moisture out of his bristly white ponytail. "That's 'cause she's gotcher twisted 'round her little finger," he shrugged. He wiped his hands on Sakumo's shirt, shed his geta and slipped into the house slippers Minato-kun passed him. "That's the most dangerous sort of thing to happen; if your kid knows you have a weakness, she'll exploit it."

"_What_ weakness?" Sakumo growled, aggravated. "Oh, excuse my manners, Minato-kun—I'll fetch some tea."

The twelve-year-old beamed. "Thank you, Sakumo-sama; that'd be great!"

"It'll drive away some of this chill, that's for sure." Sakumo nodded and led the way to the tea room, combing out his hair with his fingers. "We have _matcha_ and _gyokuro_ and _sencha_, but I also brought back an amazing mix from Rice Field Country. It's this fantastic jasmine—"

"Spare us your tea connoisseurship," Jiraiya groaned. "I just want something strong and hot—unless you still have some of that berry and almondy stuff?"

Sakumo rolled his eyes. "_Tamaryokucha_ it is."

"Show-off," Jiraiya jibed.

"Sensei!" Minato-kun scolded.

"Papa!"

Sakumo turned, blinked, then blinked again. "Oh, no…"

Naked as the day she was born, and not much cleaner (being caked in mud and fur and what looked like the remnants of a prodigiously-sized hairball), Kakashi fled down the hallway and skidded haphazardly to a halt before him. "Papa, you haven't touched them, have you?"

As he took off his vest, Sakumo counted to ten, pointedly ignoring Jiraiya's grin. "No, Kakashi. I haven't touched your animals." He attempted to drape the heavy cotton over his daughter's body, but she danced gracefully (shamelessly) out of the way. '_I think this is the first time I've ever regretted her being such a good little shinobi._' Sakumo closed his eyes. '_Haruka, where are you?_' "Kakashi, come here."

"Won't," said Sakumo's little nudist.

'_Ancestors give me strength._'

She looked at Jiraiya and Minato-kun, her chin lifting. "I didn't forget about you two," she said gravely. She bowed politely at the waist, then straightened. Sakumo couldn't help but admire how, even naked, she seemed to stare _down _her nose at someone easily three times her height—Jiraiya was a tall man. "I'm a better kunoichi than that; I noticed you both straight away." More shyly, "Hello, Minato-san."

"Hello, Kakashi-chan." Minato-kun appeared to be hiding a smile. "I thought I told you to call me 'Niisan."

'_When was this?_'

Warning bells going off in his head, Sakumo watched with growing suspicion and not a little terror as Kakashi tilted her head coyly to the side so that her long bangs covered half her face. It wasn't quite enough to mask what had to be the world's faintest blush spreading across her pale nose and cheeks. "Well… then hello, Minato-nii."

Minato-kun beamed. "That's better."

Over his student's yellow-haired head, Jiraiya rolled his eyes comically and mouthed 'clueless' to the horror-struck Sakumo, who shook himself out of his daze and chose that moment to lunge at his daughter, successfully netting Kakashi with his vest. Ignoring the shriek of fury and riotous squirming, he swaddled her tightly in the rough material before she disappeared with a pop and he found himself holding the coat rack.

"_Kawarimi no jutsu_," Minato-kun said, sounding surprised and not a little impressed as Kakashi materialised by his side in a small puff of smoke and displaced air. "She can do substitution already?"

"I _told_ you I was a good kunoichi," Kakashi bragged.

"Kakashi!" Sakumo snapped, disentangling his vest from the coat stand and ignoring Jiraiya's sniggers. "You're being an embarrassment. Is the water still running?"

For a split second, she looked angry, flicking her gaze to Minato-kun. Then the rebellious expression returned, concealing her hurt. "I stopped it. It was too hot, so I came to see if you threw out the children."

"Bollocks the chil—" Sakumo bit his tongue. He bit it very, very hard. "For the last time, your animals are fine. But they won't be if you stay so undisciplined and don't take a damn shower."

"Potty mouth." Her gaze sharpened in a way that reminded him acutely of how Haruka's did whenever she was particularly displeased with him. "I'm telling Mama," she promised, and sprinted back down the corridor, disappearing as suddenly as she had come.

Turning back to his guests, Sakumo ignored Jiraiya's knowing expression. "Tea room's this way."

"We know," Jiraiya snickered. "We've only been here about five hundred times."

"Allow me some dignity, won't you?" Sakumo sighed again.

Shaking his head, Jiraiya couldn't resist having the last word in. "After what just happened? You don't have a leg to stand on."

* * *

"If you like this brew so much, you can bring some home with you," Sakumo said as he re-entered the room. He was balancing a tray with three cups and a large pot as well as a bowl of roasted lotus seeds. Jiraiya's belly growled in anticipation—the tea smelled fantastic.

"I might just take you up on that," he said appreciatively. "But it just wouldn't be the same." No one brewed a cup of tea like Sakumo did. Having tended to the same plantation since before Konohagakure was built, the Hatake had been a tea family even before they ever produced a shinobi son or daughter. "One day, you're going to have to tell me how you mix it."

"It's pretty simple, but a family recipe. You'll have to bribe me," Sakumo teased. His rich voice sounded oddly clear to the ear. In spite of _knowing _what the sudden clarity meant, Jiraiya looked up again and blinked before averting his gaze to a little burl-wood pattern in the table.

With his dark brown mask pooling about his pale neck, Sakumo was an uncommonly—almost disconcertingly—attractive guy. The sort of guy you didn't want within a fifty metre radius of you when you were taking your girl out. Just in case she wondered why she was settling for _you_ when there were men like _him_ out there. (Jiraiya wasn't speaking from experience. Of course not).

Still, in spite of being tempted to stare, Jiraiya kept his gaze on the tea as he accepted it with a murmur of thanks. He wouldn't look. He wouldn't. Looking at Hatake Sakumo's bared face more than twice in a lifetime was like having your ego being kicked in the nutsack fifty times in fifty seconds.

Still keeping his eyes lowered, he reached into the pouch to retrieve several waterlogged scrolls as he heard Sakumo sipped quietly at the steaming tea. "Put that away."

"Huh?"

Jiraiya growled. "Cover yourself up, man. I don't feel like listening to those self-motivational tapes again—not for another few years at least."

"Yeah? Did they work out the first time, though?" Sakumo's wide, pleasant mouth stretched into an easy grin. Jiraiya couldn't help but feel revolted as his cheeks flushed in response.

'_Cocky bastard._' It might have been pathetic to overreact seeing his best friend's face like that, but… words failed to describe it, really. Jiraiya nursed his tea sulkily. "Damnit, Sakumo—"

"It's gone, it's gone," his friend chuckled, mask up again. "The things I do for you, Jiraiya…"

"Just let your tea cool for a while longer before you pull that vanishing trick of yours," Jiraiya responded. He wasn't a small or insecure man by any means, but Sakumo's face had that effect on every person he showed it to. Except for Haruka, maybe. Which was, of course, why he shacked up with her.

Nevertheless, with the sweet scent of Sakumo's _tamaryokucha _brew filling his nostrils, his hands warmed by the hot porcelain, the _kotatsu_ toasting his toes and his best friend sliding his cold feet in over his, he couldn't help but feel altogether content as he jabbed his feet at Sakumo's shins in revenge.

This prompted a return sally on Sakumo's part, both shinobi keeping their faces carefully composed as the absurd battle was waged beneath the table.

It ended in a stalemate, with Jiraiya twisting one of Sakumo's toes almost to the breaking point between two of his own, and the ball of Sakumo's other foot jabbing a pressure point on Jiraiya's left thigh. Of course, Jiraiya was less preoccupied with the pain and more concerned with the way Sakumo's toes were located dangerously close to his crotch area.

"Aaaand we should stop right there," Jiraiya said flatly.

"Coward," Sakumo jeered. He withdrew his feet (now warm, Jiraiya noted) and tucked them under him so that he sat on his heels. "Oh? Where did Minato-kun go?"

"Took you long enough to notice," Jiraiya said, as if he hadn't had forgotten his student's absence as soon as the foot war had begun. "'Minato-kun' got uncomfortable after having a few dozen holes stared through the back of his head." Jiraiya grinned fiercely. "So he went to Kakashi's room to play with her strays." Helpfully, "He likes cats."

The peace in Sakumo's expression evaporated. "He went _where_?" The silver-haired jōnin shouted, almost flipping the table in his haste to rise. Jiraiya managed to save the contents of his cup and the tea left in the pot, but Sakumo's cup sloshed tea all over the table before rolling ponderously off the edge. It landed on the _tatami_ matting with a delicate _tink_. Sakumo didn't look as if he'd noticed. "D-Does this mean… I have to—what if she walks in naked from her bath—"

"What, again?" Reaching across the table, Jiraiya dragged his excitable friend back down. '_He's gotten even crazier since Kakashi was born. So much for settling down._' "Look, if Kakashi did walk in naked, she'd have to be at least ten years older before it made any sort of impression on… well, anybody. So cool it, you idiot."

Sakumo mumbled something rude and used his sleeve to mop at the spilled tea. "I don't know," he sighed. "I guess I'm just…"

"Paranoid. Overcompensating," Jiraiya scolded. He felt a little slighted on his student's behalf, and more than a little amused. This was why he liked to drop by Sakumo's—his friend was a riot and a half. All the time. "Minato's safe, as far as first infatuations go. He doesn't have a clue."

"I don't know…"

Jiraiya felt a twinge of sympathy. "Sakumo, the kid practically lives with me to get away from his asshole father, so he's pretty alone as far as family goes. And he still managed to come out with a mothering streak a mile wide." '_Sort of like yours, come to think of it._' Jiraiya shifted. His wet clothes were beginning to itch. "He was just happy to get someone to call him 'big brother'. The only thing you'll have to worry about if Minato _does _spirit Kakashi away is that he'll try to smother your brat to death with protectiveness and affection. He's like that with his pets."

"Kakashi's not a… not a _pet._" Sakumo sniffed. "My daughter isn't—won't… humph. She'll get over it soon. Maybe… maybe this is why she's been so awful lately!"

Protective Father Sakumo made Ridiculously Amused Jiraiya do a little dance. "That's a little far-fetched," Jiraiya pointed out. "She was a quiet kid a couple years back, right? Maybe the terrible twos took a little longer to come along and became the fearsome fours."

"Does this mean I'm not her favourite anymore?" Sakumo asked the ceiling plaintively. "I thought I had a few more _years_, at least… stop grinning like that; it isn't funny."

"I beg the contrary. It's _very _funny." Jiraiya smirked. "Just stop glaring holes into my student. It's not his fault your little exhibitionist of a daughter decided she likes blonds."

"My daughter is _not_ an exhi—" Sakumo began with heat. Then slumped, staring dolefully into the bottom of his ceramic cup. "She is, isn't she? I bet she gets it from Haruka; she _has _to get it from Haruka—"

Denial was funny. The truth was often funnier. "Remember the time you flashed Homura-sensei to distract him so he didn't notice you putting the genjutsu on him? Or the time you mooned the dignitary from Suna? You're just lucky she liked your lily ass more than her dead brother-in-law, else the peace treaty might never have gone through. What about when Tsunade—"

"Fine!" Sakumo looked amusingly anguished. "Fine. She gets her nudist tendencies from me. I admitted it. Are you happy?"

"I am. And I'll stay that way too, if you keep them to yourself," Jiraiya hid his smirk in his tea.

Sakumo looked appropriately outraged, though whether by the suggestion he would do otherwise or the idea that Jiraiya _wouldn't _enjoy it remained to be seen. You could never tell, with Sakumo. "I'll have you know that _Haruka_—"

"Good for her," Jiraiya said hastily. "Look, I have the forms you asked for." He retrieved the scrolls from when they had fallen during Sakumo's little anxiety attack. "Lazy. You could've sent Fuyubi or Fuyuzora to get them."

"You know they don't like civilians," Sakumo said, accepting the scrolls. "Thanks—and it's not like I can leave the farm right now, since I have to stay here to maintain the chakra net keeping the worst of the storm out. The workers aren't too happy, and—"

"Spare me the excuses," Jiraiya couldn't help the fond smile. "It gives me a reason to visit."

"Since when have _you_ ever needed a reason to visit?" Sakumo eased his long legs out from beneath the table, rolling lazily into a standing position. "I'll be right back; I just need my brush set."

"No need," Jiraiya waved him back down, pulling a slender, cylindrical shape from the hip-pouch that was his constant companion. "_This_ is something that I picked up!" He uncapped it with a triumphant grin, displaying the gleaming brass nib. "It's a pretty cool new invention I got on my last mission."

Over the course of roughly half a minute, the look on Sakumo's face went from uncomprehending to sceptical as he realised what it was. "It's one of those newfangled pens from Grass, isn't it?" He grimaced. "Ah, no. I think I'll just go for the brush set—"

"No, it works pretty well—"

"I've seen what those Grass barbarians write with," Sakumo muttered. "They rip feathers off dead birds and dip the tips in vegetable dye."

Jiraiya couldn't help letting out a snort. "You're just sore 'cause they have you down for the psyche ward."

Sakumo bristled comically. "They have me classified as _clinically_ _insane_!"

"So do six other countries. S'your own damn fault—I mean, one? That's a fluke. A _katon _jutsu in the wrong place at the wrong time. Two or three? An international incident, maybe a few buildings blown up and some maniacal laughter caught on tape. But four? _Seven_?" Jiraiya shook his head. "You don't have an excuse."

"You say that like you haven't been banned from all the bathhouses in the neighbouring countries. And some others besides," Sakumo sniped back. "The last onsen I went to in Lightning Country had little caricatures of your face stamped with big red 'X's spaced out about fifteen metres from each other all around the perimeter wall." Sakumo kicked him gently under the table. "Pervert."

"Oh? And did you make this observation from the women's side of the bath or the men's?" Jiraiya kicked back. "Like you're such a saint. The point _is_ to stop being so racist and just use the damn thing—you'll be surprised. These things're great 'cause they let you write without having to prepare the ink or the brush or wash up afterwards. You just_ write_."

Sakumo sighed and took the fountain pen, shaking it before scratching experimentally at a corner of the parchment, grunting in satisfaction as his actions produced a thin, dark blue line after the initial blot of ink. "I'll have you know I disapprove of this."

"Don't shake it. And I know you do. You're such a stuffy old conservative—"

"_Traditionalist_," Sakumo interjected. "And I'm only two years older than you!"

"Still a conservative," Jiraiya said. He liked being difficult, and if it meant riling his friend, so much the better. "Though, I have to say, you're the most weird-ass conservative I've ever met."

"That's because I'm a _traditionalist_," With a sigh, Sakumo began to fill out the Academy admissions form. "Kakashi will be glad to go," he said as he inked in the date of birth. Jiraiya noticed that although Sakumo had started out with a bizarre (and incorrect) grip on the pen, he had instinctively shifted his fingers for better stability and control.

Jiraiya sniffed. '_Geniuses_.' It had taken _him_ a week to figure out how to use the darn thing properly. "She's still young. How do you think she'll interact with her classmates?"

"I don't know," Sakumo admitted. "But I've already taught her how to do the basics; proficiency will come with practice, and I'm too busy to give Kakashi any real supervision. Now that she knows them, she's not going to stop, and might hurt herself if she tries doing things alone. At the Academy, they'll be able to keep an eye on her, and—"

"Whoa, whoa—watch it!" Jiraiya warned, grabbing Sakumo's hand. "Damn… Sakumo, whose form are you filling out, anyway?"

Sakumo blinked, his pale brow furrowing in mute annoyance. "Kakashi's, of course. What do you—"

"Then why did you just circle 'male', you idiot? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"What?!" Sakumo looked down wildly. "I didn't… circle… the _right_ one, oh, _shit_."

Jiraiya couldn't help but find his friend's predicament nothing short of hilarious. Sakumo was just so _hapless _sometimes. You'd never know he was a genius shinobi by the way he acted so scatterbrained. "This is official crap, Sakumo, you can't submit it all crossed out like that. Yoshino-sensei will have your ass on a pike if you dare."

"He wouldn't," Sakumo looked smug. "Couldn't."

Jiraiya rolled his eyes. "But the old man's anal like that. And since you're trying to get on his good side to let Kakashi in at such an early age…"

"Well, damn," Sakumo muttered again. He paused, then pulled down his mask to turn a blindingly handsome smile on Jiraiya, who was… not looking.

"That was dirty," Jiraiya reproached, his eyes squeezed shut. "Lucky for me, I know you too well to fall for it again."

"You won't even look at your friend when refusing his desperate request?" Sakumo said. Jiraiya knew from experience that the tiny wobble in his friend's voice meant that Sakumo's lower lip was trembling, too. "That's inconsiderate of you, Jiji…"

"And like I said, you're a dirty guy. That genjutsu of yours doesn't work when I'm not looking at you."

The pout was almost audible. "But I can't leave the farm—"

"And the office is closed until tomorrow in any case," Jiraiya shrugged, eyes still closed. "By the way, Minato and I are hunkering down in a couple of your empty rooms. We're not going back out into this storm. Unless you're going for drowning me as well as bewitching me in one go—"

A rustle of cloth. Jiraiya peeked. His friend had re-masked himself, and what was visible of his face looked profoundly miserable. "You can stop with the guilting now. Just help me think fast because the application deadlines are in three days and Haruka will slit my throat if I mess things up for Kakashi."

Jiraiya winced. She would, too. When provoked, Kakashi's mother was a fearsome, if beautiful woman. And Sakumo _always_ provoked her in some way. "How about—"

"Papa?"

The look on Sakumo's face was priceless. "_Fuck,_" he said, almost dazedly. "She's not behind me, is she?"

"If you're talking about your daughter, maybe you'd like me better if I lie." Jiraiya hadn't enjoyed himself this much in a long time. "Hello, Kakashi. Minato. Enjoyed your bath, Kakashi?"

Dressed in a tiny, pale blue yukata patterned with clouds, Kakashi nodded politely as she stepped into the room. "I did, Jiraiya-sama. And Minato-nii wants to tell you something." The almost indulgent look on her face looked oddly out of place on a four-year-old's features.

'Minato-nii' ran to Jiraiya, a tiny grey tabby clinging haphazardly to the side of his yellow-haired head. It looked as if the kitten was digging all of its little claws into Minato's scalp, but the blond didn't so much as wince. "Sensei!" he shouted, his face lit with glee. "Kakashi-chan said I could keep this one!"

_That _gave Jiraiya pause. '_Just who is the four-year-old here?_' "That was nice of her. Have you thought about where you're keeping her?"

The excitement in his student's face crumpled. "I… well, I thought maybe she'd stay with you? I… I can't bring her home."

Minato was a good kid, Jiraiya decided. He wouldn't let any animals that weren't toads into his apartment, otherwise. He nodded his assent, and was rewarded with a smile as beaming as Sakumo's. "You won't regret it, Sensei!"

"Don't give me any cause to," Jiraiya warned. "I'll throw the lot of you out to the curb, else. Be sure you have someone keep an eye on it while we're out on missions, though."

"I will!" Minato laughed and joined Kakashi at her father's side, looking down at the application form.

Kakashi's dawning realisation and subsequent joy lodged something deep in Jiraiya's chest. And it hadn't even been _his _fault she might miss the deadline. "Papa, is that the letter you're writing to the Academy to tell them I can join?" Kakashi's smile was evident even under the patterned scarf she wore over the lower half of her face. "_Thank_ you, Papa!"

Glancing from the botched 'letter' to Sakumo's face, Jiraiya judged that the amount of anguish in Sakumo's masked expression translated roughly into 'the guilt is eating me alive'. He tried to think of a way to let the girl down gently. "Actually, Kakashi-chan, he—"

"Wants to play a game with you!" Sakumo said loudly.

Jiraiya winced. '_And that wasn't transparent at all. Where's your shinobi finesse?_'

Kakashi cocked her head to the side. "Papa?"

"Kakashi," Sakumo said. Jiraiya could see the genius' cogs turning. Whirring. "This is your first mission. I have registered you as Hatake Kakashi—my _son_. If you can maintain that illusion for more than a week, I will let you keep one of your animals."

'…_that was some quick thinking, you bastard._' Jiraiya's mouth twitched. Sakumo had always been good at pulling his—and others'—bacons out of the fire. "I'm curious to see how this turns out," he admitted aloud.

"Sensei?" Minato looked questioningly at him.

"Shhh."

Kakashi appeared to be thinking things over. Her dark eyes were calculating when she finally looked up. "If I can stay hidden for two weeks, can I keep two children?"

Sakumo sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. "The rest will have to find homes after the first week, Kakashi. I can't let you keep more than one."

"But if I let them stay with… say, Soku-san, can I get one back for each week I pretend to be a boy?"

"Kakashi," Sakumo looked as if he were thinking very quickly. Jiraiya wondered why he didn't just stop spoiling his daughter and tell her 'no'. "This is your first test in infiltration and disguise. Isn't that reward enough?"

'_Good one,_' Jiraiya grinned. '_You can get Kakashi to agree to just about anything if you pretend it has something to do with training._' He felt Minato nudge him.

"Who's Soku-san?" his student whispered.

"Sakumo's old teammate," Jiraiya murmured back. "An Inuzuka. Loves little critters."

Minato looked dubious. "Kakashi-chan," he said, when it appeared she had begun to sulk. "If you want, I can look after the children for you. You can come play with them whenever you want."

"What's with this 'children' terminology," Jiraiya heard Sakumo mutter. "As if they aren't kids themselves…!"

"I'm more concerned about where he thinks he's keeping them. He certainly isn't bringing them to _my_ place…" Jiraiya replied out of the corner of his mouth.

After a long moment, Kakashi nodded. "I'll dress up like a boy. I'll trick them all so well they won't even know! Not for _years_!"

Sakumo blinked. "You only have to do it for a week," he said urgently. "No more, okay? Your mission will be complete then."

"I'll do it for twenty-three," Kakashi said obstinately. "Then you'll have to let me keep all the children."

"W-Wait, that's not what we agreed on—"

Kakashi wasn't listening. "Minato-nii, are there any things I have to know about being a boy?"

Busy stroking his new kitten, Minato blinked and smiled kindly. "I think it's pretty different from being a girl, Kakashi-chan. But if you just wear boy-clothes and talk like a boy, I think it'll be okay."

"But I'll have to go into the boy's room, too. And boys pee _standing_, don't they?"

"W-Well. Yes. There's that."

Sakumo let out a strangled noise that might have been a whimper.

"Where's your 'traditionalist' now, Sakumo m'boy?" Jiraiya elbowed him as Kakashi and Minato skipped about the room, whooping and discussing possible strategies at the tops of their lungs. "Congratulations. Your diabolical, four-year-old daughter is a cross-dressing nudist. And leading my innocent student down the path of sin."

Sakumo's shoulders slumped as he cupped his face in his hands, groaning. "Shut up. Just… shut up."

"Haruka-chan's going to kill you. Remind her to send me an invite to your funeral, okay? I want to see if you'd rise from the grave, just to spite—"

"I _said_, quiet!"

Never let it be said that Jiraiya knew to stop while he was ahead. "Make me," he challenged.

Letting out a wordless roar, Sakumo launched his long body over the _kotatsu,_ tackling Jiraiya to the floor with all the force of a silver-grey thunderbolt.

"Papa? Papa, leave Jiraiya-sama alone!"

"S-Sakumo-sama!"

* * *


End file.
